Yes, I’m the Villain Today — And Still Their Biggest Fan

Let me go ahead and say it plainly: some days, being an educator feels like playing the villain in a story you’re trying your hardest to rewrite. Not because you *want* to be the bad guy — never that — but because holding students accountable in a world obsessed with instant gratification makes you the enemy before you even open your mouth.

It’s wild, honestly.

You give feedback, you set expectations, you hold the line, and suddenly you’re “mean,” or “doing too much,” or “not understanding.” And it’s not just students — sometimes parents and even educational leaders look at you sideways for insisting that learning takes time, patience, and practice.

But literacy? Real literacy?

The kind that changes lives?

It doesn’t happen in a day. It doesn’t happen in a week. It doesn’t happen because a student turned in one assignment they rushed through at 11:58 p.m.

It happens slowly. Brick by brick.

It happens through struggle, through revisions, through conversations, through those frustrating moments when a student says, “I don’t get it,” and you say, “Good. Now we can start.”

But we live in an educational reality where students are obsessed with grades and not learning. Where the question is always “Is this for a grade?” instead of “Can you help me understand this better?” And when you actually try to direct them toward the thinking, the processing, the growth — you become the roadblock standing between them and the A they think they deserve instantly, effortlessly, automatically.

It’s exhausting sometimes.

Because as teachers, we see the long game.

We know that reading stamina won’t magically appear.

We know that writing fluency won’t download like an app.

We know that close reading doesn’t just happen because we *wish* it did.

But try telling a teenager living in a world of shortcuts, AI, and five-second answers that their literacy development takes *time*. That’s when the room gets quiet… and not the good quiet. That’s the “Oh, so she’s the villain today” quiet.

And yet, I show up.

Every single day.

Because even if they hate me in the moment, even if their parents or administrators misunderstand my “why,” I know what I’m doing this for. I know what literacy did for *me.* I know how reading and writing rerouted my entire life. I know what it means to hand a student back their paper covered in feedback — real feedback, not just a grade — and say, “You’re capable of better. Let’s try again.”

Accountability is not cruelty.

High expectations are not punishment.

And love? Real love?

Doesn’t always look like praise. Sometimes it looks like correction.

I can take being the villain if it means they grow.

I can take the eye rolls, the attitudes, the “you’re doing too much,” and the sudden drop in popularity.

Because I’ve been in this game long enough to know that the same students who “hate” me today are often the ones who come back later and say, “Thank you.” Sometimes years later — but it comes. And when it does, it hits different.

I’ll take being the villain all day long if it means they walk out of my classroom prepared, confident, and literate enough to navigate a world that will not hand them anything.

So yes — I’m the villain today.

But I’m still their biggest fan.

And I always will be.